Loved For One Thanksgiving Day
by DCKidWing13
Summary: It's the holidays. And no one believes in showing love during this time more than Dick Grayson. Especially if it means spending time with a long-lost family member. Rated for a tiny bit of language. Otherwise, fluff, angst, and hurt/comfort all around!


All my works are _self-beta_, so any and all mistakes were foolishly made by me. **I do not own any DC characters**. If I did, there would be quite a few changes in the DC world. **I do not profit from this story.** If I did, I'd upload a lot more and a lot sooner, don't you think?

**A/N****: I realized that I haven't done a holiday-themed story in a while, so…here you go!**

**Loved For One Thanksgiving Day**

It was cold. Too cold. He wasn't surprised. It was Thanksgiving Day in Gotham. It was a miracle that there was only a light snowfall at this time of year. He chalked that up to Global Warming. Or maybe some villain was messing with the weather again. In Gotham, you can never be sure. Anything could happen at any time, regardless of the holidays. That was one of the first lessons he learned on the streets. And the one he makes sure to never forget—along with "always watch your back" and "limit your trust".

The wind picked up, and he could have sworn the temperature dropped at least 6 degrees then. He shivered and zipped his jacket further. He didn't know how long he'd been walking or even where he was walking to. He just knew that he couldn't stop or he'd start to think. He couldn't stay still or he'd begin to remember. He had to keep moving. He had to stay distracted. But everywhere he looked, it was Thanksgiving or Christmas or even Halloween for those who were still a month behind. He hated the holidays. Especially the two big ones that come at the end of every year. The ones that always made him _think_, made him _remember_, all that he no longer had.

He was hungry. He hadn't eaten all of that day. He hadn't been in the _mood_ to eat. He wanted turkey. Or ham. Or stuffing, pumpkin pie, _something_ that everyone else was eating at that time. He would even settle for dried-out leftovers. He wanted to be some place warm. In a heated kitchen or living room. A fire would be nice, but it wasn't necessary. Hell, he'd settle for a blanket in a crappy apartment. But more than anything, he wanted people. People who cared for him. Family. Friends. He would have taken an _associate_ who only _tolerated_ him if he were offered. But he wasn't offered. No one had offered him anything. No food. No warmth. No company. He was hungry, cold, and alone on Thanksgiving Day. And all he could do was keep walking…

* * *

><p>It wasn't right. This is not what was supposed to happen today. He wasn't supposed to be soaring through the skies of Gotham right now. He was supposed to be eating food Alfred spent hours preparing and convincing Bruce <em>not<em> to be soaring through the skies of Gotham. And yet, here he was, far from Wayne Manor and its inhabitants. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not today. He didn't plan for this.

"Damn you, Bruce," he muttered to himself as he stopped on a rooftop. He looked up into the sky, which held an increasing rate of snowfall. The wind picked up and wished more than anything at that moment to be in Wayne Manor. He bowed his head guiltily with closed eyes. "I'm sorry, Tim. Looks like we won't be spending this year together after all."

* * *

><p>"Why aren't you dressed for patrol?"<p>

"Because I'm not going." He could sense Batman raise an eyebrow. Batman stood, waiting. Fine, he'd give the man an explanation. "You were out of line with Dick today." Both eyebrows raised that time. "I understand that you were upset with him, but that is not an excuse to vent all of your other frustrations out on him." He saw Batman open his mouth, but he was not going to let him speak. He held up his hand, confidence and defiance growing within him with each second. "Stop. This is what you always do. Whenever someone calls you out on something, you always try to shut them up. But I'm not going to let you do that this time. For once, you **are** going to listen, because this is about more than just _you_, okay? This is about Dick. And I don't care what your opinion is; the fact is that you _were_ out of line with him. You can't always yell at him just because you feel like using him as an outlet to let out some steam. I know that you've been doing that practically your entire career with him, but it's gotta stop, **all right**? The reason why you've continued doing it is because you _think_ that he'll always get over it, that he'll always come _back_. Well, I've got news for you, Bruce: One day, when you've finally pushed him to his last limit, when he's finally quit giving you 'second chances', that's the day he **won't** be coming back. Do you understand that? He won't always forgive you. One day, he's just gonna give up on you and finally, FINALLY, stop letting you drag him down. But you know what, Bruce? As good as it will be that he's finally cut such a huge stressor like you out of his life, it's going to **destroy** him. And you just don't realize that, do you? Even after all the crap you've put him through for the last 14 years, you still mean everything to him. And when he cuts you out of his life, he's going to be cutting out the one person that mattered the most to him. And then…he won't be Dick anymore. I don't know who he'll be, but he won't be my brother, that's for sure. I saw the way he was when he thought he still hated you, before I became Robin. He was miserable, despite the happy-go-lucky façade he put on for everyone. Now that you're back in each other's' lives, he's finally brightening up. But if he has to cut you out for good…I don't think I'll ever see him this way again. But I'm NOT going to let it come to that, got it? I'm not going to let you destroy my brother all over again. I don't care if you take away my job, my home, my city…take whatever you want, but you are NOT taking my brother! _**Do you understand that, Bruce?!**_"

His teeth and fists were clenched and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He was at the height of his fury, but he didn't dare do or say anything else for fear that he would be unable to control his actions. Instead, he caught his breath and glared at Batman with fire and passion in his eyes. He meant every word of what he said, and if the time came for it, he would prove to Bruce that he did. But it was his job—and Alfred's—to ensure that that time need not come.

"…Yes…I understand, Tim."

He was slightly surprised that Batman had answered him, and even more surprised that he was not upset with Tim for his outburst. He allowed himself to calm down, taking a deep breath and relaxing.

"Good. I'll make sure of that." He turned to leave and made it halfway to the stirs before he was stopped by the next thing Batman said:

"I'll be counting on you to."

After a moment of pause, he turned back to the man and calmly said, "Have a nice patrol, Batman." He continued walking. When he reached the top step of the staircase, he could have sworn he heard Batman say something else, but wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Tim." Then, the roar of an engine, followed by silence.

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes and looked below onto the littered streets of Gotham. He saw one house decorated with a large inflatable turkey in the yard. At another house, he saw a group of people exiting cars and hugging another group that was exiting the house. On the other side of the street was a house that was still decorated for Halloween. Various other houses already had Christmas themes covering them, and some houses had no decorations at all. He looked elsewhere on the streets. Most people were inside their warm houses, in an alley or under a bridge, or hiding out in some abandoned building to plan some illegal act. Which is why it struck Nightwing as odd to see an obviously-freezing man wandering tiresomely about the streets, wearing a jacket that suggests he has <em>some<em> sort of wealth. He was about to forget about it all and continue on his way when felt a strange sense of familiarity. The man…he knew him.

_No…it couldn't be…_

He silently leapt from the building toward the man to observe him from a closer angle. All he needed was that fraction of his face, that corner of his eye, that cautiousness in his walk, to tell Nightwing what he suspected but could still hardly believe.

He dropped down behind the man. "…Jason…?" The shock was evident in Nightwing's voice, just as it was evident in the shifted posture of the man in front of him.

The man turned slowly, cautiously, almost…out of fear. And in that moment, any remaining doubts about the man's identity were expelled from Nightwing.

"…Jason…What are you doing here? Why are you out here in the cold if you're not wearing your mask?"

The man stood still and remained quiet. Nightwing knew something had to be wrong.

"What is it? Did something happen?"

Jason continued staring at him for a moment before turning away from Nightwing and walking onward.

"What—hey! Wait! Where are you going?" Nightwing ran in front of Jason, making him pause. "Come on, can't you just hold on for a second?"

Jason stared at him for a few seconds before attempting—and failing, thanks to Nightwing—to walk in the other direction. This action repeated two more times before Jason lost his ever-so-easy-to-lose temper. "What the hell do you _want_, Grayson?!"

"What I _want_ is for you to talk to me."

"I don't have nothing to you. Get outta my way." Again, he attempted, and again, he failed.

"Look, it's obvious to me that you're not doing okay. I know we're not the best of pals, but it's the holidays. I'm willing to put aside our differences for a decent conversation if you are."

"…_pfft_…No _thanks_, Nightwing." Jason tried to get away again, but this time, Nightwing caught his arm. "Let. **GO**."

"It's Thanksgiving…isn't it?"

"No, DUH, genius. A calendar could have told you _that_. Now let go of my arm before I break yours."

"I mean, that's what's bothering you. Thanksgiving. Today." He felt Jason's tension loosen a bit and knew he'd gotten it right. "Holidays like these…_family_ holidays…they've gotta be tough for an outcast. Here you are—cold, hungry, alone—while everyone else is inside their cozy homes, eating and laughing with family and friends. No one has offered you anything. Not a meal. Not a fire. And definitely not any company. And when it's a day like this, when you're supposed to be _thankful_, you can't help but wish you _did_ have those things to be thankful for, to share with others, to **embrace**. But you don't."

Jason stared at him moment, trying not to look too deeply into those truly sincere eyes. "…And what about you? You're out here, cold and alone, just as I am. And you don't look like you're on patrol right now. I don't see most of your weapons and you don't look like you've been in any fights yet. Why aren't some place cozy, with lots of food and friends and…_family_? Why do you look just as alone right now as…as I'd guess I probably look? Hm?"

"…Because I don't have a place to go to this year." He released Jason arm but never took his eyes away from Jason's. "I had originally planned to stay with Bruce for these few days. I got here last night, and everything seemed to be going all right, but… A few hours ago, we got into a fight. A pretty nasty one. Probably in our top 5 worst arguments. He'd said some things, and…I just couldn't do it. I just couldn't stay there after that, so I left. Except…I didn't plan on getting in a fight with Bruce, so I didn't have anything else prepared. I saw it was getting late, so I just decided to swing around the city a bit to clear my head and figure something out. Then I ran into you." Nightwing's face beamed, suddenly, and Jason felt a sense of fear creep into him.

"Yeeeahhhh….Annnd?" He was nearly too afraid to ask what Nightwing was thinking. The man could be as frightening as Batman in his own way.

Nightwing grinned widely. "Well…I was thinking…"

Jason swallowed. "Th-thinking what?" He instinctively took half a step back.

Nightwing purposefully took two steps forward. "I mean, we're both alone. And we both want company, so…" Nightwing grinned wider, if that were possible. "Why don't we be each other's' company? Hmm? What do you say?"

"I say…you need serious help…and I am NOT going to be the one to give it to you." Nightwing pouted. Jason was unsure of what to do. He'd been on the receiving end of one of Dick's "love tantrums" before and he did NOT want to be in that position again. The hugs Dick gave him then left bruises. Jason shivered in memory of it. Everyone had tried warning him to just go along with it. He didn't listen. What about now? If he doesn't go along with it, will the 8-year-old trapped inside Dick's 22-year-old body demand that Jason love him like "all good little brothers should love their big brothers?" He felt himself beginning to panic. Nightwing's pout was deepening. He had to make his decision.

"Jaaasoooonnnn. Come ooonnnnn. I only wanna spend some time with my black sheep of a little bortherrrr."

Damn him. Jason really wished he was dead at that moment. Nonetheless, he took a breath of courage and swallowed a large piece of his pride. "…All right… We'll spend..." He took another breath as he felt a nervous wave go through him. "We'll spend Thanksgiving together, okay? Now, stop acting like a 5-year-old; you're _embarrassing_ me."

Nightwing's face lit up immediately and he sucked in a large breath of air in joy. "You swear you won't try to run away?"

"uh—"

"Oh, wow. I can't believe we're really going to spend Thanksgiving together. This would be the first time we've done this, wouldn't it? Okay, um…I guess we can just go to my place. That way I can change, since I left most of my stuff at the manor."

"Uhhh—"

"Come on, let's go. My bike's nearby."

"Wait—What? I'm not gonna ride behind you on your bike, man."

"Why not?" Jason gave him a look and Nightwing rolled his eyes. "Well, then, Mr. I'm-Afraid-To-Get-Close-To-Another-Guy-Because-I-Don't-Want-To-Look-Gay, how do you suggest we get to Bludhaven in a timely fashion?"

"Hey! If you were me, I'm sure you wouldn't want to ride through town behind someone with as many _rumors_ as you."

Nightwing rolled his eyes again. "Just come on. It's not like you have an identity anymore, anyway, so you don't have to worry about a reputation when you're outside your mask."

Jason sighed bitterly and muttered a "fine" before following Nightwing to his ride. After a few minutes of debating the seating arrangement, the two were finally on their way to Bludhaven. Using secret shortcuts and travelling much beyond the speed limit, they managed to make it to Nightwing's apartment in little over half an hour. They crept inside and Jason gave Nightwing a moment to change into Dick Grayson.

"You look exhausted." Jason cautiously peaked to see if Dick was finished changing before turning to him. HE looked exhausted? Dick really needed to take a glance at himself. "You sleep okay?"

"Fine. You?"

"All right." He gave a smile. Damn him. Why was it so easy for him to be so damned _happy_ all the time, even if there's nothing to trigger it? Just then, Jason blushed lightly as his stomach reminded them of its presence. "Right, we should probably eat."

Dick spent the next few minutes rummaging through his kitchen in a desperate attempt to find food. Jason sat there in silence, unsure of what to make of the situation he was currently in. This was…strange to him. It wasn't even three months ago that he had tried once again to kill Grayson. Grayson fought him off and, once again, tried to convince Jason that he needed "help". He hated all of them for thinking that. He was fine. He wasn't psychotic. He didn't need "_help_". And here he was now, sitting in Dick Grayson's living room, watching him search his kitchen. He could run. Now would be the perfect opportunity with Dick not looking. All he had to do was make it to the door or window, and he'd be free.

"Oh! I think I found something!" Dick called out in delight, taking Jason away from his thoughts. Dick held up a large bowl for Jason to see. "My landlady, Clancy, brought this over for me yesterday, since I hadn't told her yet that I was going to Gotham and she thought I was going to spend Thanksgiving alone." He removed the aluminum foil from atop the bowl. "It's turkey. And here…" He held up a casserole dish. "We have…" He looked through the side of the dish. "I think that's broccoli casserole. Never had it before. It should be interesting. Oh! And we could order a pie from the delivery bakery that's a few blocks from here. They're usually open late on holidays. What do you say? Pumpkin? Cranberry? Or maybe something else? Or we could do a cake?"

Jason didn't know how to respond. Dick was actually excited about this…about spending time with _him_.

"Oh, hey! I forgot I had that cornbread in there…"

He continued watching Dick as he got out the foods and started to heat them. Then…for some strange reason unknown to him…he smiled. And a moment later, he smile even more until he couldn't help himself. Maybe…spending the holiday with Grayson wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would. He felt a weight on his shoulders and turned to see Dick placing a heavy blanket on him.

"You were still shivering. How long were you out there?" Jason shrugged, but wasn't sure if Nightwing could tell it apart from his shaking. Dick tightened the blanket around him. "You really should take better care of yourself. You could catch a cold being in this weather for so long." There was a beeping sound from the kitchen and Dick got up to check the food, turning up the heat on the way.

Soon, everything was heated and spread out for them to feast upon. Jason took a mouthful of turkey and had to force himself to choke it down.

"Nnh…yeah, it's a little dry, isn't it? Just a little warning, the casserole's dry, too…and the cornbread. I can make some gravy or sauce to go with—"

"No, no, it's fine, it's fine. Really. It's fine." Jason took a large mouthful of casserole and cornbread as if to prove his claim.

Dick chuckled lightly. "All right, then. But can I at least offer you something to drink? I have sodas, juice, some te—" Dick was cut off by the sound of a knock on his door. "Looks like our pie's here. Excuse me." He walked to the door, calling, "stay under the covers" as he went. And Jason felt something. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something he had thought he would never feel again.

"Mmm…I bet _this_ isn't going to be dry!" Dick placed the pie on the table and smiled at Jason, who willingly gave a small smile back. He had food; it didn't matter that it was dry or that the cornbread had probably been leftover for weeks. He had warmth, even if it was in Dick's crappy apartment with his blanket wrapped around Jason. And most of all, he had Dick, who was more than just an associate—he was the only person who really cared to give him this chance. And Dick didn't just tolerate him… He truly did care about. And even if his caring was just an extension of his love for Bruce, Jason would still take it because it was still the best offer he was receiving now.

"Wanna slice?"

"…Sure…"

And for the first time in a really long time, Jason felt _loved_. Even if it was just for one Thanksgiving Day.


End file.
